ANNEKE CLAUS - FUNERAL OF MEN (2016)
ABOUT THE BOOK
The titles of her earlier volumes That was that (2008) en Erase (2011) suggest that Anneke Claus writes poetry to say goodbye, to tidy up, to close. In her new book, that took her five years to complete, she buries a whole queue of men that have played a part in her life. Eventually she follows them. At times life is celebrated like there’s no tomorrow, in other poems she writes in detail about the painful quest for love and acceptance. The fact that’s she leaves room for laughter in so much sorrow is a no less than a beautiful present.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anneke Claus loves life and love. And fears death. In that fashion she climbed many literary stages. From 2009 till 2011 she was the city poet of Groningen, where she still lives and works. She collaborated with painter/cartoonist Bart Nijstad on Funeral of men. On Facebook Nijstad is better known as the creator of Alone at home.
‘Claus has a keen eye for the absurd. She is calm and superior, in total control of her style and her emotions. Fourty poems of sheer perfection’ Dagblad van het Noorden*****
‘In Funeral of men not only love itself but also a whole generation are being carried to their graves. This loss does not lead to longing, but underneath the surprisingly formal observations and additions? smoulders a peet fire of lyricism. The humour here is so alienating that you don’t dare to laugh. This poetry is raw and naughty, stumbling and lilting: it’s totally now’ Erik Jan Harmens
‘The best poetry causes a physical reaction in the reader. Anneke Claus masters that art. I have on occasion been beaten to a pulp by her poems. In Funeral of men she does that almost carelessly’ Dennis Gaens
‘Do I stay or do I leave you? That’s what’s it all about in Funeral of men. Anneke Claus treats us to more than forty clever, absurd and funny answers to that question, in narrative poetry that is in no way inferior to the work of the master-narratorsMark Strand, Nyk de Vries or A.L Snijders. Enjoy this sensual black humour from the most tender, sturdy heart that I know of’ Tsead Bruinja